Книга - The Rebel Captain’s Royalist Bride

The Rebel Captain's Royalist Bride
Anne Herries


LOVE THINE ENEMY…Orphaned and without protection, Babette Harvey must suffer in silence when her uncle gives shelter to a band of Rebels – though her Royalist blood boils! But other dangerous passions must also be quieted – including those aroused by the handsome and commanding Rebel leader Captain James Colby.When Babette’s talent for herbal medicine attracts suspicions of witchcraft she has nowhere to turn save to Colby – her honourable enemy. And with the Captain determined to claim her as his bride Babette must choose which to betray – her principles or her heart.









Her heart raced, and for one moment she was tempted to say that she would go away with him, forget her duty to her family, forget the war—but then reality took hold and she knew it was impossible.


‘Yet at this time it would not be right or proper of me to marry a man who is the enemy of my family.’

‘I am not your enemy,’ he said softly, ‘but I respect your feelings and I shall wait until the time is right to ask again.’

He would ask her again! For a moment she could not breathe.

Babette's throat tightened and she wished that she could throw caution to the winds, tell him that she liked him more than any man she had ever met and go with him. Yet if she did she might never see her brother again, for he would think that she had betrayed him and his cause. The pain about her heart was intense, but she turned her head aside so that Captain Colby should not see her indecision.

He took hold of her, both hands about her waist, tossing her up on her horse's back and giving her the reins. She felt as if her body were on fire and wanted to cling to him, to let him kiss her until she forgot all else—but common sense made her hold back. She could not love the enemy.


AUTHOR NOTE

This book is the latest in the Melford Dynasty series that began with FORBIDDEN LADY. The previous book was A STRANGER’S TOUCH.

James is a Roundhead Captain, and Babette a secret supporter of the King. They should be enemies, but love does not respect a man’s beliefs or a woman’s wishes. Torn apart by war and prejudice, can they ever find happiness?

I hope you will find pleasure in this story.

You can contact me for more details of this series at www.lindasole.co.uk


The

Rebel Captain’s

Royalist Bride

Anne Herries






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ANNE HERRIES lives in Cambridgeshire, where she is fond of watching wildlife and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. Anne is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize. She invites readers to contact her on her website: www.lindasole.co.uk


Contents

Prologue (#uf466e9f2-9a30-5f92-ae3e-7ded5358abdd)

Chapter One (#u2572284a-8b67-562e-9a0b-e4268d22a0ce)

Chapter Two (#u3a4526ce-34ef-5d99-9c3b-2796566a8123)

Chapter Three (#ufe8c851d-c7e8-598e-bfd3-71a1cd469d0b)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Afterword (#litres_trial_promo)


Prologue

James Colby stood by the grave of the woman he had loved, then bent to place a single delicate flower on the grass, which now covered it. He had come to say his final farewell before riding off to the war and an unknown destiny. Perhaps before too long had passed they would lay him in the earth beside his sweet Jane and the sorrow he had known these past eighteen months or more would be ended.

‘Forgive me,’ he whispered as a gentle breeze seemed to stir and grief caught his throat. ‘You were too young and lovely to die. If a life was forfeit, it should have been mine.’

For a moment the sun came out from behind the clouds and it was as if a kiss grazed his cheek. He seemed to see the face of the girl he’d loved and hear her voice.

‘You were not to blame, my dear one,’ the voice said close to his ear. ‘Forgive me that I was too young and foolish to wed you when you asked.’

James cried out in agony. For she was so close that he could almost touch her, and he wanted to breathe life into those white lips, to bring her back to the world of sun and laughter.

The world was so much less without the innocent, gentle girl he had loved and cherished with all the tenderness of calf-love. Turning away, his heart wrenching because he must leave her there, James began to think of the months and possibly years ahead. The war was certain now that King Charles had set up his standard. He had tried to arrest the five members of the Houses of Parliament and his action had led to outrage and an upsurge of feeling against the tyrant who believed that only he could judge what was best for England.

‘What is best for Charles Stuart more like,’ Cromwell and Hampden had said when James talked with them about the future. ‘If the people of this country are ever to be free from tyranny, we must rise up and fight for our principles.’

James could only agree. He enjoyed his life as a landowner, a man of peaceful habits who had no wish to argue with his neighbours, but he now understood that for his way of life to continue he must fight. The King had imposed unfair taxes to fund his disputes and laws that were biased against the common man. Although James would have preferred not to take up arms, he knew he had little choice for soon the whole country would be split.

Besides, perhaps some action would ease the ache about his heart and the sense of having failed Jane, though he did not know what he might have done differently.

Donning his hat, which had a wide brim and a curling feather, James walked away from his betrothed’s grave. He did not think he would return again. He must put the unhappiness of Jane’s death from his mind and begin his life again.

Lost in his thoughts, he did not see the shadow lurking behind a huge oak tree at the edge of the graveyard, nor did he see the expression of hatred on the man’s face.

‘You killed her, James Colby,’ the man said out loud as he watched him walk away. ‘You were responsible for her death—and because of that I shall kill you one day soon...’


Chapter One

Babette was in the orchard, pulling ripe plums, when she caught sight of a small party of horsemen riding towards her uncle’s house. Calling to her cousin, Angelina, and their servant, Jonas, to follow, she picked up her basket and walked hastily through the orchard to the kitchen gardens of the modest manor house. She’d seen the figures outlined against the ridge of the hill some distance away and was not sure whether the soldiers were Royalist or Parliament men.

‘Aunt Minnie,’ she cried, ‘there is a party of horsemen riding fast towards us. I do not know whether they be Cavaliers or rebels. Where is my uncle?’

‘Sir Matthew has gone down to the long field. They are cutting the wheat today. Had you forgot?’

In her haste to return and warn her family, Babette had completely forgotten that her uncle had decided to set the men to cutting his wheat. Because Sir Matthew Graham had not chosen to fight when King Charles set up his standard, some of his neighbours suspected him of being for Parliament and the Royalists amongst them eyed the family suspiciously when they attended church.

It was everywhere the same in a country torn by civil war. The quarrel betwixt King Charles and his Parliament had blown up suddenly the previous year, seemingly out of nowhere, except that Aunt Minnie’s second cousin, Henry Crawford—who was close to his Majesty—said that the trouble had been brewing beneath the surface for a long time. When the King tried to arrest five members of Parliament only to discover the men he considered traitors had been warned and fled, he decided that only a war could bring these unruly men to heel.

‘Whatever shall we do?’ Babette’s aunt asked, looking flustered. She wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Should we lock the doors against them or welcome them as friends?’

‘It depends who they are and what they want,’ Babette said, though in truth she was not sure which side her uncle would choose if forced to take sides. Babette knew her own heart, but for the moment she kept her silence. ‘I think Jonas should go to my uncle with all speed and tell him that visitors are on their way.’

Aunt Minnie agreed and Jonas was told to saddle the old grey cob, which was the only horse not already in use in the fields, and ride to alert his master.

‘Will they kill us all, Mama?’ Angelina asked, looking frightened.

‘God have mercy, child! I hope not,’ Lady Graham replied, but her face was pale, and she looked at her only daughter anxiously. ‘We must lock all the doors, Babette. Maria! Alert the other servants. Close all the doors and windows. We shall not open them until Sir Matthew comes home to tell us what to do.’

Babette hurriedly locked and barred the kitchen door. Three ladies alone in the house, apart from a few female servants, could not be too careful and all the men were in the fields.

Her heart was beating rapidly as she went through the house, checking windows and doors. For herself Babette hoped that the visitors would be Cavaliers and be able to give them news of how the war went for King Charles. She had no doubts where her loyalty lay. Her beloved father would have offered his sword to the King had he not died of a virulent fever the previous winter.

Lord Harvey had been failing since his beloved wife’s death three years previously, followed a year later by the disappearance of his son, John. John, who was now Lord Harvey—unless already dead—had left the house in a rage, having quarrelled with his father over a young woman.

Since the young woman in question had also disappeared that same night it was presumed that they had run off together. John did not know of his father’s death because no one had any idea of his whereabouts to let him know the sad news.

Babette had cried herself to sleep on many nights, wondering if the brother she’d adored still lived. Alone in the castle, she’d written tearfully to her mother’s sister and been invited to come and stay with her aunt and uncle for as long as she wished.

They were a kindly couple, though Babette thought her uncle rather sombre at times. Aunt Minnie seemed a little in awe of him, always reluctant to speak on any subject unless Sir Matthew had made his feelings known. They had one son, Robert, who was presently away at college.

Robert was studying with a view to entering the church. His father had a living in his gift and would bestow it on his son when the present incumbent retired in a year or so, once Robert had taken his vows. Angelina was but fourteen, three years and some months younger than Babette.

The castle of Haverston was currently being held for the King by the Earl of Carlton, a distant cousin of Babette’s father. His Majesty had appointed him custodian of Lord Harvey’s estate and Babette’s own fortune, until she came of age and it was established whether John was alive or dead.

Babette had come to her aunt because she was lonely, but glancing down into the courtyard as a party of some fifteen or twenty men rode in, her heart caught. In that moment she almost wished she was safe in the castle, but then scolded herself for being a coward. They were but men after all, even though she thought, from their dress, they were too sober to be Cavaliers. A man in a dark coat and grey breeches seemed to be at their head, but he was wearing a hat with a wide brim and she was unable to see his face.

Having ensured that all the windows and doors were shut, Babette ran quickly down the stairs as someone knocked at the door. The knocking was loud and insistent, reverberating through the house. The servants had huddled together looking scared, and Aunt Minnie was holding Angelina’s hand. Babette saw that her cousin was crying and went to her, putting an arm about her shoulder.

‘They will not harm you,’ she whispered. ‘I dare say they have come for food and supplies.’

‘Open this door in the name of Parliament,’ a stern voice said. ‘I had not expected this from Sir Matthew Graham. We come to ask for help, not as an enemy.’

Aunt Minnie’s brow creased, a puzzled look in her eyes. ‘I think I know that voice,’ she said doubtfully. ‘It may be your uncle’s second cousin on his mother’s side...Sir James Colby...’

‘Should I ask him what he wants of us?’

Babette’s aunt hesitated, but Babette did not wait. Going to the door, she called out in a loud voice, asking their visitor to give his name and state his business.

‘We barred our doors, for we did not know who you were, sir,’ she said. ‘We are a house of women and dare not admit strangers in such fearful times.’

‘Is that Lady Graham?’

‘No, her niece, Mistress Harvey.’

‘I am second cousin to Sir Matthew—and I come in friendship. My name is James Colby.’

‘Open the door,’ Aunt Minnie said, looking relieved. ‘Sir James may enter, but his men must remain outside until my husband returns.’

Babette lifted the bar cautiously, peeping round the door. Her first glimpse was of a tall, commanding figure. The stranger had removed his hat, and she could see that he was dark-haired with eyes of grey, a firm hard chin and a mouth that at this moment looked stern and angry.

‘My aunt says she will admit you, sir, but your men must remain outside until my uncle returns.’

‘They are tired and weary from the road, lady,’ Sir James said with a sigh, his eyes narrowed and his manner harsh. ‘It seems that this is Royalist territory, but I thought we would receive a better welcome from my cousin’s house.’

Babette pushed a lock of pale hair back beneath the modest cap she was wearing. Despite his expression, she decided that the stranger looked more weary than dangerous and stood back to allow him to enter. Sympathy was in her voice as she said, ‘If your men would care to go inside the barn and rest, I am sure we could send food and refreshments to them, sir.’

‘Thank you, mistress,’ Sir James said. His gaze focused on her for the first time and he made a jerky movement with his hand; for a moment the expression in his eyes made her fear, for it was such a strange, intense look he gave her, a flame deep in his eyes—but then he smiled. When he smiled it was as if he were a different man, his eyes almost silver and lit from within.

Babette’s heart caught oddly, because his smile was most pleasant, even though he had confessed himself for Parliament and was therefore her enemy. He turned and directed his men towards the barn, and they dismounted leading their horses towards the shelter it offered.

‘Sir James, forgive us,’ Aunt Minnie said, coming forward. ‘Sir Matthew has gone down to the long field to cut the wheat and most of the servants are with him. We were afraid of so large a party of men coming to the house and locked our doors. Will you not step into the parlour, sir? We shall give you food and drink, and my husband will be here shortly to speak with you himself.’

‘Yes, thank you kindly, Lady Graham.’ He had taken off his hat now, and Babette saw that his hair was longer than the style adopted by many of those who had joined the ranks of Parliament and were known as Puritans, because of their strict views on religion and private life. His clothes were of a sober hue, dark grey with a sash of yellow across his chest, a leather belt, which held a plain scabbard and his sword, gloves of buff leather and long black boots. His collar was white linen with a small edging of embroidery. Most men of the Puritan persuasion allowed themselves no ornament of any kind, perhaps to set themselves aside from the Cavaliers who delighted in finery and the latest fal-lals.

Hurrying to the kitchen, Babette spoke to Maria, arranging for food and drink to be carried to the men outside. She poured ale into a pewter jug, set fresh bread, a small crock of butter, cheese, a cold chop of pig meat and a bowl of her aunt’s best pickles upon a tray, adding a slice of apple pie with cinnamon she’d made earlier that morning. Carrying it into the parlour where her aunt was still speaking with Sir Matthew’s cousin, she set it down on the table.

His gaze went appreciatively over the food offered. ‘You have been most generous, mistress. I thank you for your kindness. My men will be grateful for whatever you have. We have ridden for several days, finding food where we could. Since we encountered the enemy in a skirmish some days ago, we have been without some of our baggage. Some householders have been kind enough, but others made it clear we were not welcome.’

‘We are at war, sir, and not everyone is of your persuasion. Some would feel you are rebels—traitors.’ Babette had spoken without thinking and she saw the flash of fire in his eyes. She saw a nerve flick at his temple and his hands clenched. He was clearly angry, though he struggled to control it.

‘The King is the traitor to his country,’ he said harshly. ‘It was he that imposed the tax of ship money on us, he that imposed the iniquitous Star Chamber—and he that tried to arrest the five members.’

‘He tried to arrest them because they defied their King,’ she replied, angry in her turn. Her head went up, and, had she known it, her eyes flashed in temper. ‘If the King needs money for a war and the Parliament will not grant it, he must impose taxes whether they be popular or not...’ She faltered as she saw the leap of answering fury in his eyes, then, aware that she had pushed him too far, said more hesitantly, ‘That was my father’s opinion...’

‘Then he would be for the King,’ Sir James said. ‘I had thought this household for Parliament—am I wrong?’

‘Take no notice of Babette,’ Aunt Minnie said soothingly. ‘She is but a girl and talks of what she does not understand. Sir Matthew, like many others, does not take one side or the other, sir, but hopes only for peace—though he will tell you himself, for here he comes.’

She breathed a sigh of relief as her husband walked in and pushed Babette before her from the room. Only when in the kitchen did she speak to her niece.

‘You should be more careful, Niece. I know your father was a true Royalist and that may be your persuasion, as it may be mine, but we must keep silent, especially when there are men of another persuasion in the house, dearest.’

‘Yes, forgive me, Aunt. I should not have spoken so to a guest, even if I was angered by his views. It was rude and immodest of me.’

‘Your uncle might think it immodest and perhaps Sir James might find you impertinent, but I do not blame you—though I caution you not to speak so frankly before your uncle.’

‘Forgive me. I do not know what made me lose my temper.’

Yet she knew only too well. It was the man with the eyes of cold steel who looked at her so arrogantly that she had wanted to strike him and had spoken thoughtlessly.

‘You are entitled to your own views, Babette—but it is best not to speak them in Sir Matthew’s house.’

‘Is my uncle of their persuasion, Aunt?’

‘I would not say that he was for Parliament. Sir Matthew is against any war that sets brother against brother and father against son. He cares for his land and would see it prosper. War is dangerous, Babette. Tempers rise and terrible things are said and done. As yet we have lived quietly here—but for how long can it continue? This is the first time soldiers have come to our door and they came in peace—but others may demand where Sir James requests. I think it will not be long before the whole country is aflame and then we shall all have to choose one way or the other.’

‘Yes, I know, Aunt.’ Babette was thoughtful. Her uncle had said little about the outcome of the first battle of the war at Edge Hill. The matter of who had won depended on whose side you supported, for some declared that it was a victory for the King, while others thought the men of Parliament might have won a decisive victory had they held on a little longer. In the months since that first battle there had been only minor skirmishes, indecisive clashes that had no real significance, small troops of opposing forces that met and fought. It had mainly been a time of recouping on both sides, of drawing lines and discovering who was your friend and who your enemy. ‘I know the castle of Haverston still stands for the King, but some houses are not as well defended and have fallen to the rebels.’

‘You ought not to name them so,’ her aunt chided her gently. ‘It shows your loyalty and may make you enemies. Sir Matthew has been careful not to choose sides publicly, though I think perhaps he may be drawn more to the side of Parliament, for he says they are the voice of the people.’

‘Surely his Majesty speaks for the people?’ Babette was puzzled. ‘Does the King not rule by divine right?’

‘It is certainly the King’s opinion and that of his followers,’ her aunt replied, ‘but I am not sure. Your uncle is not against the King. Far from it—but he would have his Majesty rule by the consent of the people.’ Lady Graham sighed. ‘Yes, I know, dearest, it is a puzzle to me, too. I know not what to think.’

Babette made no reply. Her uncle was a studious man and he often lectured them about theology and, it seemed, the rights of kings—at least he had confided these views to his wife.

She could not know whether her uncle was right or wrong. Certainly, she agreed with him that war was unfortunate. She’d heard that in some parts of the country marauding soldiers of either persuasion had commandeered grain, cattle and horses, leaving the owners without payment and in fear of their lives. Some who had fought for their possessions were left wounded or dying; it was indeed a bitter conflict that turned families against one another and set neighbours at war with each other.

‘I shall try to be careful, Aunt,’ she promised, ‘for I do not wish to bring trouble upon you and your family.’

‘I know that, dearest,’ Lady Graham said. ‘You have been a joy to me since you came here. Your cousin is still a young girl, though she does not like it to be said. I have found your company comforting, and you have helped me in so many ways. I should be loath to part from you—if your uncle decided that it was not suitable for you to remain here.’

It was the implication, the words left unsaid, that shocked her.

Would her uncle banish her to the castle? Babette’s heart sank. She much preferred life in this comfortable manor house to that in the bleak and often icy cold castle. The discomfort had never bothered her when her parents lived and her brother was at home, but without them it had become a lonely place indeed and she had no wish to return. Her days had been busy at the castle, but the nights were long and gave her too much time to remember and regret. She would take her aunt’s warning seriously and watch her tongue, especially when her uncle was near.

Babette wondered if the Parliament man would complain of her to his cousin. As she helped Aunt Minnie wash and preserve the plums she’d picked earlier in the huge iron pan of sugar syrup, she contemplated the idea of being banished to her home. She would miss her aunt and her cousin very much. Hearing the heavy tread of her uncle’s step, she tensed, fearing his anger. However, when he entered the kitchen he was smiling.

‘Ah, there you are, Babette,’ he said, ‘helping your aunt like the good girl you are. Would you take more ale to the parlour, please? I have invited Sir James to stay with us for a few days. His men are on a mission to purchase cattle and horses and I have told him that I will help him, though I will not have my neighbours robbed.’

‘Will they sell to Parliament forces?’ Babette said and wished she had not as she saw her uncle frown. ‘Forgive me, Uncle. It is not my place to question.’

‘It was a pertinent question, Niece,’ he said and sighed heavily. ‘Because of our relationship, Sir James is willing to bargain for what he wants—though I fear that others may not be so nice. Both sides are taking what they want, Babette. If we wish to survive and see our neighbours prosper as we do ourselves, we must tread carefully.’

‘Yes, sir. I understand that,’ she replied. Her uncle was sometimes stern and sombre, but she saw that he was a good man at heart. He had not chosen to fight and some might look askance at him for that, but she knew that all he wished for was a quiet life in which to nurture his land, care for his family and be on good terms with his neighbours—but for how long would he be allowed to live as he preferred?

Babette picked up a jug of ale and went back to the parlour, hearing her aunt and uncle begin to talk in low voices as she closed the door. She’d feared that their visitor might have complained of her, but it was obvious that he had not for her uncle was not cross with her. He was generous at times, but also superstitious and often stern. He would have no mistletoe or greenery in the house at Christmas for it was a pagan custom and, he said, a tool of the Devil, the custom of kissing beneath a bough immodest.

Sir James was standing by the window, looking out into the garden as she approached. His view was of a small courtyard garden set with flowers of all kinds: damask roses, daisies, the remains of the gillyflowers, lilies and sweet-scented stocks, which were fodder for the bees that lived in their hives and supplied them with wonderful honey.

‘Your ale, sir.’ Babette set down her tray and was about to move away when he turned and looked at her. For a moment she was shocked by the haunted expression in his eyes and once again her heart caught. He looked so grief-stricken and for a moment she saw a different man. What could have caused that look?

‘Who tends your garden, mistress?’

‘I do most of it, though Jonas helps me when I need some heavy digging.’

‘Your hives do well?’

‘Yes, sir. Very well.’ She poured some ale into his cup, noticing that he had eaten most of the food she’d brought for him. ‘Have you eaten sufficient?’

‘Quite sufficient, mistress. My compliments to your aunt—that apple pie was delicious.’

‘I made it...’ Babette said and then blushed, for he would think she was asking for praise. ‘My mother taught me. She was a wonderful cook—and my aunt likes me to make pies for her.’

‘I see...’ There was a faint smile in his eyes now. ‘Is your mother dead, mistress?’

‘Yes, sir, these three years past of a fever.’

‘And your father?’

‘He died last year. I came to live here with my aunt because it was lonely without them.’

‘Sir Matthew tells me that your brother is Lord Harvey—but none knows if he lives?’ Sir James looked at her curiously. ‘Is your uncle your guardian?’

‘Nay, sir. His Majesty appointed the Earl of Carlton the custodian of the castle and my portion. I suppose either he or the King himself would be my guardian until my brother can be traced.’

‘Ah...’ He nodded, frowning again. ‘So that is where your Royalist persuasion came from. I thought it odd, for my cousin is surely of a different persuasion, even though he chooses not to take up arms.’

His eyes were cold as they went over her and yet a fire seemed to leap at their heart. Babette’s stomach clenched, for this man affected her more than she cared to admit. He was arrogant and an enemy, and this feeling in her stomach must be fear, though she was not usually so easily intimidated. Yet what else could cause her to tremble inwardly?

Babette set her lips primly. It was not for her to say why her uncle had not chosen for one side or the other. Her uncle’s views were his and he had no doubt made as much known to his cousin as he wished.

‘You are not betrothed?’ Sir James asked, bringing a betraying flush to her cheeks. ‘Your uncle said it had not yet been thought of.’

‘I see no reason why you should wish to know that,’ Babette said, raised to a quick anger by his impertinence. He had no right to question her on such a subject. ‘My father was to have arranged a betrothal just before he died—to Andrew Melbourne.’

‘Lord Melbourne’s son?’ His gaze narrowed. ‘Drew is my cousin once removed. I descended through the female line, but one of my ancestors was a Melbourne—her name was Catherine. Drew was once my good friend, but we have not spoken since before the Battle of Edge Hill. I regret the breach, for we were once good friends, but it was inevitable.’

‘Drew is for the King, of course.’ Babette’s head went up, her stance certain and proud.

‘Yes.’ Sir James looked at her, a brooding expression in his eyes. ‘Have you heard from him since your father died?’

‘No.’ Babette licked her lips nervously. It was one of the reasons she had cried herself to sleep each night before she came here. Although she had only met the handsome young man once, she had been excited by the thought of marrying him. She had thought he would come to the castle to claim her when he heard of her father’s death, but he had not. Indeed, she’d heard nothing of him since that date and supposed that he considered himself free to marry where he chose, since the betrothal had not actually happened.

‘I thought not,’ James said, a strange look in his eyes. She thought that he had more to say, but withheld it for some reason of his own. If he had news of Drew, in his arrogance he would not tell her. ‘Thank you for your ale, mistress. Your uncle has said that I may use the blue chamber while we stay here. I trust my presence in the house will not cause you sleepless nights?’

‘Should it?’ She frowned at him, annoyed that she had told him more than she’d intended of her life. He was an enemy and nothing to her, nor could he ever be. ‘I see no reason why your presence should make any difference to my life.’

‘Indeed, it should not,’ he replied, a smile playing across his mouth. She wondered why her eyes were drawn to his mouth. It was not as if he was likely to kiss her. Why had that thought entered her mind? Babette was horrified. She did not wish any man to kiss her unless he was her husband—and she certainly would not wish to marry a Puritan, though perhaps this man was more a soldier than a man of religious fervour.

This was ridiculous! Her heart was racing wildly and her cheeks burned as the foolish thoughts chased through her mind.

Babette withdrew her eyes hurriedly, collecting the empty plates and jug on to her tray. She picked it up and left before he could speak again. He had gone back to his contemplation of the garden and she sensed a heaviness in his mood that intrigued her.

Why should the contemplation of her garden make him sad? She was sure that he hid a secret sorrow behind that mask of indifference but could not imagine what it was—or why her garden should remind him.

* * *

James continued to gaze into the garden after the girl had left him. His mind was confused, for on first seeing her something had arrested his speech, suspending his thought for an instant that seemed like an aeon of time, and taking his breath. What it was about the young woman that should render him so he could not tell. He had believed he could never feel any true human emotion again, certainly not the softer feelings that he’d known when his sweet Jane was alive.

Surely he could not be attracted to a woman he had met only this day? No, it was foolish, ridiculous...a betrayal of Jane. And yet there had been something the moment he saw her, and, as he’d watched her working, his first feeling had not been reversed that here was a remarkable young woman.

A woman who might help him to live again, perhaps?

Even as the thought entered his mind, he crushed it ruthlessly, a wave of such intense grief sweeping through him that he gasped. What a rogue he was to contemplate caring for a woman when his beloved lay in her grave.

‘Forgive me, Jane,’ he whispered. ‘I shall never love any other woman, for you were my heart and my soul.’

In time he might marry, for a man could not live his life alone, but he would choose a widow who wanted only a home and comfort. He could not give more...even to the girl whose eyes had seemed to pierce the shield he had built to shut out his grief and despair.


Chapter Two

Babette glanced out of the kitchen window, though she was not precisely sure what she sought or why. Captain Colby, for such his men called him, had been out with her uncle and half of his men all that afternoon. As she stood at the window, she saw they were returning, her uncle and the rebel captain riding side by side as they entered the courtyard. One of the men was driving a wagon filled with sacks and leading two bullocks at the back of the cart. Clearly their expedition had been successful, though she could see no sign of the horses they needed, but then, most of the neighbouring farms had only the horses they used for riding or work in the fields. Her father had kept a fine stable at the castle, but Babette had brought only her favourite mare when she’d come to the manor house.

As she watched, Captain Colby dismounted, and a servant took his horse. He glanced towards the kitchen, as if seeking something, and Babette’s heart leapt. How foolish! He did not look for her. Why should he? Besides, she did not wish him to notice her. He was too arrogant—her enemy.

She and her aunt had been busy baking all the afternoon, for with so many extra guests they would need to provide more bread and pies if they were to feed hungry men. Angelina had made some custard tarts, but her task was mainly peeling and chopping the vegetables that would go into the stewpot. The big black pot hung on a tripod over an open fire and the main ingredient in this night’s meal was mutton, cooked long and slow to make it tender, with bacon, onions, dried beans, herbs, carrots, leeks and turnips, cooked out to add thickness to the gravy. Also large dumplings made from flour and suet, which were filling and would satisfy hungry men.

Babette had sipped the gravy and she knew that the food tasted delicious. In winter she would also have added potatoes to the mix towards the end of the cooking time, but their stores of those precious roots had been used before the spring was out and there would be no more until the next harvest this autumn.

For pudding there were stewed plums she had picked that day from the orchard, custard, pastries sweetened with honey and a quince preserve. Besides these dishes there would be fresh bread, butter and soft white cheese from their own cows. It was truly a feast fit for any man. Aunt Minnie bemoaned the fact that she had no pig pies or trotters to offer as delicacies, but Sir Matthew never killed a pig unless there was an R in the month, for the meat would spoil too soon.

Glancing through the small-paned kitchen window again, Babette saw the rebel captain washing his face and hands beneath the pump before turning to walk up to the house. She averted her head quickly, her heart’s strident beat bringing a flush to her cheeks. Rather than let him think she had been watching him, she loaded a tray with bread, cheese and butter and took it through to the parlour, setting it on a side table of oak. Earlier, Angelina had laid places on the long refectory table for the family, their female servants, Jonas and the captain.

Babette straightened a chair, casting her eye over the fare laid out. The cold food would be close at hand and either she or her aunt would serve the men with the hot dishes before sitting themselves, while the servants waited to serve themselves once the family were seated. Babette had found her uncle’s habit of eating at the same table as his servants odd at first, for her father’s hall was much larger than this parlour and though everyone ate in the same room there was a distance between the lord and his followers. However, she was not at the castle. She had grown used to supping with the servants, but fervently hoped that she would not be seated next to their guest. The less she had to do with him the better. He had a way of looking at her that made her stomach clench and might make it impossible for her to eat her meal.

However, Aunt Minnie had other ideas and she directed the stranger to take the seat of honour, next to her husband and therefore on Babette’s right hand. He politely stood until she sat, pulling out her stool so that she could take her place. Only her aunt and uncle had chairs with backs, another thing that had taken some getting used to when she first came here. At the castle she had a chair of her own, with a straight plain back and two arms to place her elbows. In her bedchamber, her chair had cushions she had embroidered herself, but her father would have thought it too soft to use at table, for one sat up straight to eat and did not slouch.

Babette saw the stranger frown as he realised that she had a stool, as of course he did since there were no other chairs. Perhaps he was not used to using them and felt discomfort in the arrangement?

Her uncle said grace as usual. Aunt Minnie rose after grace had been said and fetched the large tureen of stew from the side table, which she ladled into earthenware dishes for the men, before serving Babette, her daughter and herself. Babette offered bread to everyone, and Maria poured ale into mugs. Sir Matthew seldom had wine at table, for it was mostly sour and needed to be sweetened with honey, unless they were fortunate to have French wine, which tasted smoother. Good wine was expensive and saved for times of celebration and the family drank Aunt Minnie’s homebrewed ale. This evening, though, a rough red wine was offered to their guest, and Sir Matthew drank wine himself, though both Babette and her aunt preferred the weak ale they normally drank.

As she retook her seat, Captain Colby stood once more, insisting on placing her chair for her. Babette’s cheeks flushed; he was their guest and should not wait on her, but as she looked at her uncle she saw approval in his eyes. Feeling the flutter in her lower stomach, Babette murmured her thanks, but avoided the soldier’s eyes.

Taking her seat once more, Babette looked down at her trencher. She was very conscious of the man sitting beside her and noticed that he merely sipped his wine and then reached for the glass of fresh spring water that one of the women had placed for him. They were fortunate in having such pure water from their own spring. In towns and cities, Babette had heard it was dangerous to drink the water, for it was often contaminated, but theirs was pure and sweet and she saw the appreciation in the way their guest drank deeply of his.

‘You do not drink wine, mistress?’ he asked as he saw her sip her ale and then the water.

‘I prefer a sweeter variety than my uncle’s cellar can provide, sir.’

He nodded, and she thought that perhaps he felt the same, though would not say. ‘Your aunt’s home brew is most pleasant to the taste.’

‘Yes, sir. Like the water it has been cooled, for Aunt Minnie considers it more palatable thus.’

Again he nodded, as if agreeing. She knew that her aunt kept a good table and no one could object to the food, but her uncle was careful with his silver and would not pay the high price many wine merchants asked for the sweet French wines.

‘Did you have a good day, sir?’ she asked out of a need to make conversation. He turned his sombre gaze on her, and she felt her throat catch under his dark scrutiny.

‘We made some purchases, but hardly enough for our needs. We require much more flour and certainly more pigs and cattle, but your uncle’s friends had little to spare. We were not offered one horse.’

‘Perhaps in a few weeks when the harvest is gathered there will be more, sir. I fear there are few spare horses—but perhaps later this year if the travelling people bring their horses to the fair. Sometimes they have pure Arab bloodstock, but whether they would part with them is uncertain.’

‘Yes. I believe the fairs would be the best source in normal times, but the travelling folk are avoiding the fairs now that the country is at war, I think.’ He looked grim. ‘It was my hope and that of some others that we might retain the goodwill of the landowners and farmers by buying produce, but if we are offered so little...’

Babette felt a tingle of alarm as he left the rest unsaid. She had heard that in some parts marauding soldiers had stolen cattle and grain, burning what still stood in the fields as a punishment to those who resisted. But the tales were vague and it had not happened here as yet.

‘If Parliament is for the right of the people, how can you justify taking what people have toiled all year to produce without payment?’

‘That is precisely my argument, mistress,’ he replied and smiled at her in a way that had her tingling right down to her toes. ‘An army must be fed and there are those who say we must take what we need if we cannot persuade. However, for myself I shall also give payment where payment is due.’

Babette could not fault his reasoning, though she knew that most of the small farmers who helped her uncle to gather his harvest, and whom Sir Matthew helped in return, would produce only enough to feed themselves and their people throughout the year. The large landowners might have surplus corn, but hardly anyone had much to spare. Perhaps if the trees were laden with apples they might take some baskets to market, but as far as the grain, cows and pigs were concerned they raised only enough for their own needs. In times when the harvest was generally poor there was often not enough to go round and the poorest families might go hungry through the winter.

Sir Matthew had a large flock of geese, also several ducks and chickens. He did sometimes give a goose to a neighbour at Christmas and sometimes at that time of year he killed perhaps ten of his flock and took them to the market, but even if the rebels took the whole flock it would hardly be enough to feed the number of men she’d heard had rushed to join the Parliament’s army.

‘Some of our men have gone home to harvest their fields,’ Captain Colby was speaking to Sir Matthew now, leaving Babette to her thoughts. ‘It is necessary work, for if the wheat and oats were left to rot in the fields their families might starve, but it does not please Cromwell.’

‘Is Cromwell not a farmer himself?’

‘Aye, he is that, but he will not release the men who follow him this year and insists the women and old men, children and the infirm must gather in the harvest.’

‘His attitude must be much resented?’ Babette suggested.

He turned to look at her, his quiet grey eyes thoughtful. ‘Perhaps by some, but he is admired and respected, some say loved, by the army. He speaks of more discipline needed amongst the ranks and of turning his men into battle-ready troops rather than a disorganised rabble.’

‘I do not know the man,’ Sir Matthew said. ‘I believe he lives in Cambridgeshire? Here in Sussex his name has reached us, though as yet we have seen little of your fellow officers, Colby.’

‘Do you intend to stay long, sir?’ Babette asked when her uncle had turned to speak to Jonas.

‘A few more days. I should like at least two cartloads of grain and another six or more cattle to send back to the quartermaster before I move on to the next location. Since your uncle has kindly offered us a place to sleep, we have decided to make our headquarters here while we see what is on offer to us.’

A few more days... she thought.

Babette nodded, but made no reply. She had no right to resent her uncle’s decision, for it was his house, but she wished that he had not made the rebels so welcome. She was tempted to return to the castle, but knew that she would find it lonely. Before the rebels came, she had allowed herself to forget the war and believed that her aunt had a softness for the Royal cause, but her uncle had now made his true colours known. He had not chosen to fight, but he was making his home available for the Parliament men; he had effectively made his choice, even though he would not take up his sword.

Her feelings must have shown themselves somehow for she was aware that he looked at her with some amusement.

‘Yes, you must put up with me a little longer. Fear not, lady. I shall not demand that you put away your finery and wear plain black. I am not a Puritan, though I fight side by side with them.’

Babette glared at him. Why did he find the situation amusing?

‘If you are not of their persuasion, why do you take arms against the King?’

‘I am for the people. I would have the King rule, but by consent of people and Parliament, not as the autocrat he believes his divine right gives him the authority to be.’

His beliefs were much as her uncle’s. Her uncle’s views had not concerned Babette one way or the other—so why then did she feel such a strong aversion to this man?

She averted her gaze and saw that her aunt was signalling to her. Getting up from the table, she fetched bread, butter, tarts and cheese to set before the men. The servants had begun to clear the dirty trenchers and were now replenishing ale, water and wine. After she had finished her task, Babette took her seat once more, sliding quickly into place before Captain Colby had more than half-risen from his seat.

‘You need not rise for me, sir,’ she said softly. ‘Here in my uncle’s house all the women wait at table.’

‘A custom I am unused to,’ he murmured softly. ‘In my house a gentleman stands for a lady.’

Babette smiled. ‘As in my father’s house, but we are all equal in the sight of the Lord—so my uncle says.’

‘Yes. While I agree, there are differences...’

In her heart Babette knew that her father and brother would agree with him, but here in this house they lived by Sir Matthew’s rules. She arched her brows at him as if to imply she disapproved of his sentiments, but knew she did it only because she had to protect herself from him. His chivalry and charm must not be allowed to breech her defences. No matter if she liked his smile, he was an enemy of all that she believed in. She must always be on her guard.

Now why did she feel she needed protection from him? He was a gentleman and a guest in her uncle’s house. She was certain he would not abuse Sir Matthew’s hospitality—so why did she feel she needed to keep a barrier between them?

* * *

Babette was relieved when at last her aunt signalled that they were to clear the dishes to the kitchen and leave the men to talk business over their ale. Babette carried a loaded tray to the door. Usually, she set it down on a small table, but before she could do so Captain Colby had opened the door for her, holding it as she and then Maria passed through. She gave him a small smile and a faint shake of her head, but his expression did not change and he continued to hold the door as her aunt followed with another loaded tray.

Babette was already at the sink, beginning to pour a kettle filled with hot water over the greasy plates. She added a liquid soap her aunt made herself and was about to start washing dishes when her aunt stopped her.

‘Let Maria do that, Babette. You do not want to make your hands red. Captain Colby might notice and he treats you as a lady, as I suppose you are.’ Aunt Minnie was looking faintly troubled. ‘When you came here your uncle expected you to live as we do, Babette—but your father was Lord Harvey and perhaps I was wrong to allow it.’

‘Do not be foolish, dearest Aunt,’ Babette said. ‘I like to help you. Pray ignore Captain Colby. His manners are good, but while I am in your home I do not consider myself above you or my uncle.’

‘Your uncle’s views are not shared by everyone,’ Aunt Minnie said. ‘You will leave the dishes to Maria, please, and return to the parlour. You may sit and sew and listen to the gentlemen talk.’

‘And leave all the work to you and Maria?’ Babette frowned. ‘No, certainly not. If I may not wash the dishes, I shall dry them and put them away. It is you who should be sitting in the parlour with my uncle and his guest.’

Aunt Minnie looked at her doubtfully. ‘Captain Colby...’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘I would not wish to spoil your chances of a good marriage, Babette. My sister looked much higher than I and found herself a rich lord. Matthew was enough for me, but I was never as beautiful as your mama, dearest.’

Babette acknowledged that her aunt was homely rather than beautiful, but she was a kind, gentle lady and she was angry that the rebel captain had put such doubts into her mind.

‘You need not concern yourself on my account, Aunt. I would never marry a rebel—and I do not care for Captain Colby. I find him arrogant and...’ Her words died on her lips as the door opened and she saw him standing there. He had carried Greta’s tray for her, perhaps considering it too heavy for the elderly servant.

While Babette’s cheeks burned, for he could not have failed to hear her comment, Lady Graham bustled forward, begging him to set down the tray and return to the parlour.

‘You should not, sir. It is not a gentleman’s place to carry for a servant.’

‘She is also a woman and elderly. She looked to be in need of help, so I offered. I beg you, do not scold Greta, ma’am.’

‘No, I shall not,’ she said and looked flustered. ‘But I beg you not to tarry. You must have more important things... Sir Matthew will want to discuss your business...’

‘I shall not keep him waiting a moment longer.’ Captain Colby glanced at Babette, his eyes so cold and icy that she knew he’d heard her and was angry. He inclined his head, his silence speaking volumes as he left them.

‘Do you think he heard what you said?’

Babette raised her head as she answered her aunt, ‘I care not what he heard. He means nothing to me nor ever could.’

‘He lives in a much bigger house than ours,’ Aunt Minnie said. ‘I believe his family to be wealthy—and they have been influential at court in the past. I must confess I was surprised to see that he was one of the...one of the Parliament men. I had thought he would offer his sword to the King.’

‘He says his Majesty is unjust and must come to terms with his Parliament and rule by consent of the people.’

‘Yes, in that I cannot fault him. But the King is...’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘We must not worry our heads over such things, my love. Your uncle knows what is best and we must abide by his wishes.’

Aunt Minnie was so submissive to her husband’s wishes, never venturing a contrary opinion, at least in Babette’s hearing. If every woman was expected to behave so meekly, perhaps Babette would do well to remain unwed.

She sighed inwardly as she finished stacking the dried dishes, then struck a tinder and lit a taper, holding it to her chamberstick.

‘I shall retire for the night, Aunt.’

‘It is early yet,’ Aunt Minnie said. ‘Why do you not sit in the parlour and listen to your uncle and his guest? Sir Matthew will expect it.’

‘Pray tell my uncle I have the headache and ask him to forgive me,’ Babette said. She kissed her aunt’s cheek and picked up her chamberstick, leaving the kitchen before Aunt Minnie could object.

* * *

Alone in her room, Babette went to sit on the deep windowsill and look out at the night. It was a clear, still night and over-warm, the room so stuffy that she opened the casement to catch a breath of air. As she did so, she caught sight of something in the bushes. Her room overlooked the kitchen gardens, and she was not sure whether she’d seen a man’s figure or not. Was it one of the servants—or perhaps one of Captain Colby’s men?

‘Babette—is that you?’

The sibilant whisper was just beneath her window. She leaned forward and saw the man hiding behind the water butt. Immediately, her heart caught with fright and then started thumping madly as she saw who it was.

‘John—is that you?’ she called. ‘Is it truly you come home?’

‘Shush,’ the voice said in a harsh whisper. ‘I’ve seen horses—they belong to the rebels we’ve been following. Are they in the house?’

‘Yes, their captain is,’ she said, leaning out of her window to look down at him. ‘His men are in the barn—nearly twenty of them. If you are for the King, you must be careful.’

‘Can you help us? We need food and water—and a horse. Drew’s was shot from under him and he has a wound himself.’

‘Do you recall when we stayed here once as children?’

‘Yes...’ John sounded hesitant, then, ‘The hut we played in, in the woods—is it still there?’

‘Take your friend there,’ Babette said. ‘I will go down as soon as the others have retired and bring you food and ale.’

‘Can you not come down now?’

‘I shall try,’ she said. ‘Hide in the shrubbery and I will see if I can find anything left from supper.’

Blowing out her chamberstick, Babette left her chamber and crept back down the stairs to the kitchen. She listened for a moment then, deciding it was quiet, went in. Aunt Minnie must have sent the servants to bed or perhaps on an errand, and she herself was probably in the parlour.

Seeing the remains of a loaf, a heel of cheese and the remainder of a quince tart she’d made, she gathered them into a muslin bag, then picked up a quartern pot of ale and approached the back door. She found it locked and was in the act of turning the key when the door opened and Greta entered.

‘Where be you going, Mistress Babette?’

‘I need a little air, my head aches...’ Babette saw her looking at the food. ‘I’m hungry. I couldn’t eat at table. Please do not tell my aunt.’

Greta smiled, revealing her toothless grin. She went to the table and picked up a slice of pie. ‘I shan’t tell if you don’t...’ she cackled and, tucking the pie into her apron pocket, she went back into the hall.

Babette smiled to herself as she left the house and began to walk towards the shrubbery. That was not the first time Greta had returned to the kitchen to steal an extra slice of pie when her mistress was otherwise engaged. Aunt Minnie knew she did it and laughed to Babette, for as she said she did not grudge her servants their food and the old woman might have asked for it, but preferred to raid the kitchen when others were in bed.

Reaching the spot where she’d seen her brother hide, Babette was about to call out when she felt herself caught from behind and a hand went over her mouth.

‘Be careful, Babs, those devils are everywhere. Give me the food and go back to the house quickly before they wonder what you are doing.’

No one had called her Babs since her brother disappeared and she felt the tears spring to her eyes as she said, ‘Where have you been?’

‘In Holland. I came to England with Prince Rupert to fight for the King. What are you doing here in a house of rebels?’

‘My uncle is not a rebel. He has not taken sides, at least until now—but the rebel captain is a second cousin. They are looking for grain and cattle and will stay here for a few days.’

‘God rot them,’ John said angrily. ‘I had hoped we might find a place to rest here. Drew is wounded and needs to rest. We were six of us on a similar mission to your rebel captain when a larger party set upon us. Four of my friends were killed. Drew and I escaped and came here.’

‘Take your friend to the hut... Wait.’ Babette bent down and quickly pulled off her linen petticoat, giving it to him. ‘There is a stream nearby where you can find water to drink. Use this linen to bind his wound. Tomorrow I will make a salve and bring it with more food. I shall tell Aunt Minnie I am going foraging for herbs and roots—and I shall do so, but first I will bring the things you need.’

‘Thank you, Sister,’ John said and smiled at her. ‘I’d heard you were here. I am glad to find you well.’

‘Have you been home?’

‘I know Father is dead. I told the King I would rather be free to fight with the prince than be cooped up in the castle. Lord Carlton will continue to hold it for us—and you should return home, Babette. I shall visit you there and bring Alice to you.’

‘Alice...your wife?’

John’s face relaxed into a smile that softened his features. ‘My Alice is with child. She begged me to keep her with me, and I did at the start, but now she is six months gone and cannot travel fast. I have sent her to the castle for her own safety—but you must promise me to join her. You will, won’t you, Babs?’

Babette thought regretfully of her aunt’s warm kitchen and her kindness, but her duty was clear.

‘Yes, of course, I shall now that I know you are alive and that you have a wife who needs me. I shall tell Aunt Minnie tomorrow, but it may be a few days before I can leave. Uncle Matthew may not be able to spare anyone to bring me home because of the harvest. I should need to travel with just Jonas as my escort.’

‘Once your rebels have gone, I shall come to the house and fetch you,’ John said. ‘I must go now, for Drew needs my help. Be careful, Babs—and tell no one that you’ve seen me while the rebels are in the house.’

‘No, of course not. God be with you, Brother.’

Babette had given him all the food she’d brought. She stood watching as he melted away into the shadows. Then she turned and started to walk back to the house. As she approached the kitchen door, a shadow moved towards her, making her jump.

‘Did I startle you, mistress?’

Captain Colby’s voice was somehow reassuring, though her heart beat wildly. Somehow she would rather it was he than one of his men—but what had he seen? What did he know?

‘Good even’, sir. I thought you with my uncle in the parlour?’

‘He had some business with one of his tenants—and I came out for a little air.’

‘As I did,’ Babette said and tried to pass him, but his hand shot out, imprisoning her wrist. His fingers seemed to hold her lightly, but in a grip she could not break and her heart was beating like a drum. ‘I pray you, let me go, sir. I would go in...’

‘Who were you speaking with just now?’ She could hear the suspicion in his tone and feared that he had seen too much.

Babette’s heart was racing. John had warned her to tell no one that she’d seen him and she certainly would not tell this man the truth. John had a friend he called Drew and his friend had been injured in a fight with the rebels, four of his friends already dead. The Parliament men were her enemies and she had no wish to speak with this man. Yet if she denied speaking with someone he would know she was lying and think the worst.

Lifting her head, she looked him in the eyes. ‘I do not see it is your business, sir—but I was meeting a friend, a man I care for.’

‘Ah, your lover...’ Captain Colby’s eyes narrowed, and she thought he looked angry. ‘Does your aunt know that you sneak out late at night to seek your lover? No? I thought not. Your uncle would not care for it, I think. He is a strict man and might forbid you his house.’

‘I intend to return home soon,’ Babette said, stung to anger. He would think her immodest now and for some reason that hurt and shamed her, but to tell him the truth would cause trouble for her brother and his friend.

‘You might have no choice if your uncle had caught you.’

‘As I said, it is none of your affair. I am naught to you, sir.’

‘No, but you might have been. I had it in mind to ask your uncle for you in marriage...but I do not care for tainted goods.’ There was a note of anger or perhaps disappointment in his voice as he suddenly let her go and swung away from her.

Babette caught her breath as he left her standing there. How dare he say such a thing! He was impertinent, arrogant. She would never have agreed to such a match. How could he even think it? Besides, her hand was not in her uncle’s giving, though of course her uncle might claim he had as much right as the guardian appointed by the King. Neither he nor this impossible man knew that her brother lived.

Her brother lived. Warmth soothed away the anger as she dwelled on the happy news that John was alive and here in England, fighting with the King’s troops. She smiled as she went back into the house, lit another candle and carried it upstairs to her chamber.

This time she drew her curtains and undressed, feeling ready for bed. Even though she soon drifted into sleep her rest was disturbed by strange dreams. However, when she woke they melted with the sunshine of another day.

* * *

Meanwhile, James walked on into the darkness, needing as he so often did the solitude that night provided. His thoughts were tormented, for though he could forget his grief for a time, losing himself in duty, when his work was done his thoughts turned always to the woman he’d loved so dearly.

His grief had lived with him for months, yet as he walked alone and looked at the stars, he could not banish the expression in the young woman’s eyes when he’d accosted her. She was startled, almost guilty. He’d accused her of having a lover. She had not completely denied it, though seemed outraged at the suggestion.

Why had he told her that it had been in his mind to ask her uncle for her? Had he wanted to punish her for being less than he’d thought her at the start? What had made him strike out like that?

Was she a girl of low morals? Despite finding her in such a compromising position, he did not believe her immodest.

Then why had she been outside and why did she not wish to speak of her reasons for being there? Was she meeting someone who would not wish to be seen by him?

Had she met a Royalist? In secret so that her uncle should not know?

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, for it would make her a traitor in his eyes...and yet, perversely, he did not wish to lose his good opinion of her. For some obscure reason, he would prefer that she had Royalist friends rather than her having been in the arms of a lover.

What was it to him what the girl did? James swore beneath his breath. She was but a chance acquaintance, someone he would never meet again. If he wished to wed, surely any gentle, obliging woman would serve his needs?

He had not looked at a woman and thought of marriage once in the months since Jane died. Why now? What was it about this woman that had made him suddenly stir to anger because she was willing to give herself so carelessly?

Damn him for a fool! He cared not what she had been doing. No woman could ever touch his heart again...and yet he would prefer to keep his good opinion of Miss Babette.


Chapter Three

‘It is a lovely day,’ Babette said when her aunt entered the kitchen and discovered her packing her basket. ‘I am going to make the most of it by picking herbs and fungi.’

‘What a good idea,’ Aunt Minnie said. ‘I would send Angelina with you, but she has the toothache. However, you may take Jonas if you wish.’

‘Yes, Aunt, thank you.’

Babette had known she would not be permitted to go without a servant, but Jonas had come to the manor with her. He was primarily her groom, but did any other jobs that were needed about the house. Babette could be certain of his loyalty, for she knew he would never betray her no matter what she did.

‘We shall not take the horses, for it is a nice day for a walk—besides, there may be other soldiers looking for horses. I do not wish my mare to be stolen, and it would be wiser to leave her here,’ Babette said. ‘We shall be home in time to help you prepare supper, Aunt.’

‘Enjoy yourself, dearest. You have taken some food to eat while you forage?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ Babette could scarcely conceal her flush, for she had taken enough to feed two hungry men. Aunt Minnie was certain to wonder at how much cheese and bread had gone from her shelves, though perhaps she would think it had been given to the soldiers in the barn.

Babette had been up at first light to begin the baking, and several loaves were already in the oven, waiting for her aunt to take them out. She had also made pies and tarts, which would take their turn in the oven when the bread was done. Even her uncle could not accuse her of shirking her work.

Before she began the baking, she had prepared a pot of salve and linen bandages. Besides the food, she had a sack of ale as well as a pewter bowl so that she could dip the cloth in cooling water; she would carry the water from the stream if John’s friend was still in pain and needed her attentions.

She walked quickly towards the hut in the woods, Jonas following a few steps behind. Stopping every now and then to pick something she saw in the bushes, she looked back to see if she was followed. At the stream she filled the flask she’d slung from her chatelaine. Once she heard a twig crack and waited, but then a shy deer emerged from the thicket, looked at her, sniffed the air and bounded away. Babette smiled. The red deer here were safe enough, for though they belonged to the common forest and were no one man’s property—not even in this case the King’s, as were most of the deer in the country—they were seldom hunted at this time of year. Only in the winter did the landowners kill venison for their table and they usually agreed to take only a certain number so that the stocks would flourish. Poachers were not encouraged, though occasionally Sir Matthew would complain that it was happening and sometimes an example would be made, the poacher caught and punished by hanging.

When they approached the hut, Babette looked back again, making quite certain that she had not been followed. Telling her servant to wait for her and to keep a sharp lookout, she ran towards the hut. Jonas had raised his brows at her, but he had not questioned her. Reaching the woodsman’s hut, she knocked softly and called out, then pushed open the door and entered. At once she saw that John was kneeling by the side of his friend, who was clearly ill. He cried out in his fever and threw out his arms, tears upon his face, as he called to someone called Beth.

Babette knelt beside him, placing a cool hand on his brow. He was burning hot and, as she looked at his shoulder, she saw the reason. John had removed his friend’s shirt, and his shoulder was open to the air. Where the flesh had been laid open by a sword blade the wound was red and angry, a thick yellow pus oozing from the deep gash.

‘How long has he been this way?’ she asked as she poured water into her bowl from the flask she had filled at the stream. She took linen and began to bathe the inflamed flesh, gently probing and squeezing to make the pus come away from under the hard crust that had begun to form. Her patient screamed out in agony as she did so, making John look at her.

‘Have a care, Babs. You are hurting him.’

‘I know, but the wound must be cleansed,’ she said patiently. ‘I know because I’ve seen Mama do it when one of the men sliced into his leg with a scythe. I must wash away the pus and dirt and then apply salves. I wish I had something for his fever, but I had nothing to make the mixture with. I shall gather the herbs and leaves today and tomorrow I will bring him a drink that will ease him.’

‘If he lasts the night,’ John said. ‘Lord Melbourne will be sorely distressed if his heir dies of a fever. He did not wish Drew to join the King, but there was no stopping him.’

‘He is Drew Melbourne?’ Babette looked at the man’s flushed face again and frowned. In his feverish countenance she had not recognised the young man who had once visited her home—and to whom her father had intended she be betrothed. His hair was damp and straggling, his chin unshaven and there was a scar on his left cheek. He looked much older than the man she remembered, yet he might be even more attractive if he were well. It was the heat of the fever that had given him such a high colour and his unkempt appearance that had deceived her eyes into thinking him a stranger.

‘You know of Drew?’

‘He came to the castle once when we were younger, do you recall? It was the year after Mama died and before you left.’

‘Yes, I remember, but I did not think you would, for you hardly spoke to him. He and I were out hunting most of the time and you were in mourning, shut away with your sewing most of the day.’

Babette acknowledged it was true, yet she had noticed their handsome guest and he had made her heart leap when he smiled at her once. Apart from that he had scarcely noticed her so it had come as a shock to her when Lord Harvey told her that he intended to seek a betrothal between them. She was not certain what would have happened had her father lived. He had told her that Drew’s father was a great friend of his and the betrothal had been spoken of many years ago when she was born.

‘Lady Melbourne and your mama put their heads together and planned that you two should marry, but nothing was promised. I have been lax in not arranging something before, Babette, but with your mama’s loss—and then your brother...’ Lord Harvey had sighed deeply. ‘If the young man is in agreement, I see no reason why you should not be betrothed almost at once and wed at Christ’s Mass.’

Unhappily, her father had taken ill and died long before anything was settled. Left alone at the castle until the King appointed a custodian, she had wept and waited, but Drew had not come to claim her. He did not even write to her, and Babette accepted that he did not wish to wed her. However, in her mind she had continued to think of him as the man she might have wed had her father lived long enough to arrange it—which was, of course, ridiculous.

Her patient had ceased to cry out in pain. The cooling water and the herbal mixture she had applied to his wound was easing the pain, though his fever continued to run high.

‘Beth...thank you, sweetheart,’ he murmured, a smile touching his lips. ‘I love you...’

Babette’s heart caught as she heard the words plainly. Now she understood why he had not come to claim her at the castle. He loved a girl called Beth, might even be betrothed to her. She felt a little pain about her heart, but it was soon gone for she had known that he did not wish to wed her and there was only a mild interest on her side. Had Drew wanted the match, he would have come to her after her father’s death. It did not matter, though she must eventually marry. For though her brother needed her at the castle to comfort his wife while he was away fighting, his wife would in time wish to be the mistress of her own home. It had been a pleasant dream to be the wife of the handsome Cavalier, but one she must put away from her.

‘He seems a little easier,’ her brother said. ‘You have brought us food—will you come again tomorrow?’

‘I am not sure I can get away again tomorrow,’ Babette said, knowing her aunt would think it odd if she wanted to go foraging again so soon. ‘Perhaps I could slip down to the orchard...either this evening or early in the morning.’

‘Come tonight. I shall be there when the church bells tolls the hour of nine. Did you come alone?’

‘Jonas came with me. I told him to keep a watchful eye.’

‘You can trust him,’ John said, ‘but do not tell him too much. Just say that I am alive and needed your help. The damned rebels would love to get their hands on Melbourne because he is important to the King’s cause. I cannot tell you more, but believe me, they would pay a purse of gold for what you know, Babs.’

‘I shall not betray you—either of you,’ she promised and reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘Be careful, John. Captain Colby’s men are everywhere searching for supplies. If they should discover you...’

‘I know. When Drew is able to ride we shall need a horse—but if the rebels have gone we shall come to the house and ask for help.’

‘I am not sure that is wise,’ Babette said. ‘My uncle has chosen not to fight, but I believe his persuasion to be for Parliament, though he speaks only of wanting peace.’

‘But you must return to the castle as soon as we leave. If you bring Jonas with you, you will be safe enough until we are with you. However, you must wait until Drew is better. It would not be safe for you to travel with just Jonas for company.’

‘I brought only Jonas and one other with me when I came here,’ she said. ‘Tomas Brown went off to join the King’s army. He told me what he meant to do and had my blessing—but Jonas is too old for campaigning, though he would fight if we were attacked at the castle, as all our people would.’

‘He loved my father well.’ John frowned. ‘I was sad to learn of his death. I hope our quarrel did not hasten it?’

‘Father died of a fever. He much regretted the breach and wished you home again.’

‘I offered my sword to a foreign prince to support Alice, but when the King’s nephew Prince Rupert decided to come and fight in England, I came with him.’

‘And I am glad of it, for I have been anxious for you, John. Why did you never write?’

‘I thought Father might forbid you my letters,’ he said, a little sheepish. ‘Forgive me. I dare say you were lonely—but you shall not be so, for Alice is already at the castle and waits for you impatiently.’

Babette nodded as she told her brother she longed to meet his wife and be of comfort to her. She would miss her aunt and cousin—her uncle, too, for he had been good to her in his way—but she would feel more comfortable in the castle now that Sir Matthew had invited a rebel to stay with them. She wished that she might have left immediately, but she knew she must wait until Drew was ready to travel; they needed her to bring them food and the healing cures her mother had taught her to make.

As she picked up her basket, an urgent whisper took her to the door. She opened it cautiously. Jonas stood there, looking anxious.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘I heard voices in the woods, mistress. We must go now—and tell your friends to be careful.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ she said. ‘It is John come home to fight with Prince Rupert, Jonas—and his friend is wounded.’

‘Praise the Lord my master’s son is safe, but we must leave now. If those damned rebels see us loitering here, they will wonder. We should go now—and you must pick more herbs or your lady aunt will wonder what you did here all day. I have added some fungi I saw, but I know not what it is.’

‘Thank you.’ She turned to John. ‘You heard Jonas—be prepared to defend yourself, but I shall try to draw them away if I can.’

‘Take care yourself, Sister.’

Babette nodded. She hurried away from the hut, which was sheltered by thick bushes and thorns and not easy to find unless you knew where it was situated. She moved quickly until they had put some distance behind them, then began to fill her basket with herbs, berries and the leaves she wanted to make her fever mixture. Seeing the mushroom that Jonas had added she recognised it as poisonous and was about to remove it and throw it away when a party of horsemen entered the small clearing. She recognised them at once and her heart jumped with fright. Had Jonas not heard them in time they might have happened upon him and been suspicious of why he loitered in the woods.

‘Mistress Harvey.’ Captain Colby looked down at her, his forehead creased. ‘What do you here?’

‘I have been foraging,’ Babette told him, lifting her chin. His eyes were suspicious as they centred on her, sending a thrill of fear through her—though her fear was for her brother and Drew rather than herself. ‘I was not aware that I had to ask for your permission to look for herbs in these woods.’

Captain Colby dismounted, a flash of annoyance in his face. He looked at her in such a way that she felt he suspected her of an illicit meeting of some sort. Babette raised her head proudly, challenging him with her eyes.

‘What have you in your basket?’ he asked. He blocked her path as she tried to step away. His eyes bored into her, making her heart jump. She felt his anger as cold as ice as he moved closer. She held the basket forward for him to see, and his mouth thinned.

‘What is this?’ he asked, pointing at the poisonous fungi with his finger. Now the suspicion was in his face. ‘Do not say it was picked in error, for you would not be foraging at all if you were not aware of such dangers.’ His gaze narrowed as she hesitated, seeming to become colder than ever. ‘Were you hoping to feed it to me at supper somehow? You know that one small taste makes the stomach wrench with pain and enough of this is certain death to the eater.’

Babette looked at it as she sought for an answer, but Jonas came to her rescue. ‘I picked it, thinking it good to eat. My mistress did not see me place it in the basket.’

‘I was about to throw it away,’ Babette said. ‘Jonas picked the wrong fungi. I was busy picking herbs and did not realise.’

Captain Colby took the offending fungi in his gloved hand and threw it away, but the look he gave Babette told her that he doubted both her word and that of her servant. He truly suspected her of having picked it with the intent of doing him some harm. Her stomach clenched, for some men might have had her arrested and flogged—or imprisoned—on such a suspicion. She returned his cold look, tossing back her long hair, which glinted and took fire in a ray of sun reaching through the canopy.

‘Take care when picking your mushrooms in future, mistress,’ he said. ‘A mistake like that can cost the life of a dear one—and if it was intended for an enemy it would be a bad mistake. My friends would have avenged me, and your aunt and her family might have been blamed.’

‘It was meant for no one. Had you not come crashing through the trees it would already have been discarded. No harm was intended to anyone. Jonas made a simple mistake.’

‘Have you finished your foraging?’ he asked. ‘We shall escort you home, mistress, for there are reports of dangerous men in this wood—and I should not wish you to fall foul of them, even if you do consider me your enemy.’

‘We are of opposing beliefs, sir,’ Babette replied with dignity. If he escorted her home, his men would not stumble on the hut that harboured her brother and Drew Melbourne. ‘Yet I do not think you precisely an enemy, for I believe you an honourable man.’

‘Indeed?’ His gaze became slightly puzzled, as if he was not sure whether to trust her. She prayed that he would not realise she wanted him gone from the woods. Had he suspected her reason for speaking him fair, he might have searched harder and found the hut that sheltered her brother. ‘Then perhaps you will let me take you up on my horse. Your servant may take your basket back to the house.’

Babette felt trapped. If she refused him now, who knew what he might do? He already thought ill of her and was suspicious; if he decided to make a thorough search of the area he might stumble on the hut. She had no choice but to let him take her up, though the thought made her tremble inside. Hiding her trepidation, she turned to her servant.

‘Take this back to the kitchen. Do not pick any more fungi,’ she said. ‘I must teach you what is good to eat and what is deadly.’

‘Forgive me, mistress.’

Babette inclined her head. Hoping that her servant understood why she sounded harsh, she turned and waited for the Parliament captain to give her his hand to help her mount pillion behind him. Instead, he swept her up, his big hands one each side of her waist, lifting her to the front of the saddle with ease and mounting swiftly behind her so that his arms were about her when he caught the reins.

Her whole body trembled, unable to hide how much his nearness affected her. She was encased in a strong muscular embrace and could not have escaped had she wished. The masculine scent of him was as powerful as his physique, a mixture of horses, leather and fresh sweat and beneath it the smell of skin recently washed with a good soap. It was not the kind of soap her aunt might make at home, but had probably been made by a perfumery in France or perhaps some Eastern land, as it was infused with scents that were not familiar to her.

It was not the kind of scent often met with in the country, for the servants washed only when they changed their clothes and that might be any time between a week and two months. Aunt Minnie would not put up with slovenly dress in her servants and so those in the house were forced to wash both themselves and their clothes at least once a week, but many of the common folk seldom bathed. There were always the exceptions, of course, but many of them smelled unpleasant. Wealthy gentlemen often disguised their lack of cleanliness with strong perfumes imported from the East, but both Babette’s family and her uncle’s, were more conscious of the benefits of soap and water.

‘’Tis filth that breeds disease, if you ask me, and it be certain that it brings rats,’ Aunt Minnie was fond of saying. ‘I can’t have folk in my house that carry lice in their hair or fleas on their body. If I find they have them, it’s off with their things and into the lye bucket—and a scrubbing for them in the washtub.’

The cure seemed far the worst evil to her servants and most obliged their mistress by having a body wash once every week—and washing their hands and face each morning, and even before meals, if she were about to watch them.

This man had washed all over that day, for his scent was above all fresh. Babette found his smell comforting as well as pleasing. His hair was long, but it too had been freshly washed and was brushed back from his forehead and fell in soft waves to his shirt collar. Had it been cut short, she suspected it would curl tightly about his ears; the thought made her smile, for as a boy John had had ringlets, but when his hair was cut they were lost for ever and it now grew straight.

‘You are thoughtful, mistress. Have I prevented a meeting with your lover?’

Was that why he’d insisted on escorting her home? Had he thought he was saving her from sinful behaviour here in the woods? She’d thought him more of a soldier than a religious zealot, but was he also a Puritan in his thoughts? Yet that did not accord with his scented soap and his fine linens—many of those who preached of godliness thought insufficiently of cleanliness in her experience.

‘Why should I sneak away to the woods to meet a lover?’ she asked with a flash of temper and perhaps unwisely. ‘If I wished to court someone, I would ask him to come to the house.’

‘I would have expected it of as proud a woman,’ he agreed. ‘Then what were you doing last night? You allowed me to think you were meeting a lover then.’ She turned her head to look at him and saw the suspicion deepen in those deep-seeing eyes. ‘Or are you a Royalist spy?’

Babette had to struggle against the shiver of fear that threatened. He was so close to the truth. She managed to stop herself shuddering, sitting straight and stiff within the confines of his arms. His nearness made her feel weak and her throat tightened with an emotion she did not understand or wish to know.

‘I do not know what I have done to make you think so ill of me, sir,’ she said, meeting his eyes with her clear gaze. ‘Someone I cared for came to the house to ask for medicine last night. I asked the symptoms and today I have been foraging so that I may make a cure for the fever that ails him—what is so terrible in that?’

‘Are you then a witch?’ he asked, but now the cold look had gone and a half-smile was on his lips. He was mocking her, but gently. Babette’s heart beat faster, for his smile pleased her and made her wish he were not a Parliament man. ‘Methinks I may have misjudged you last even, mistress.’

‘You were quick to judge,’ she said. ‘There are in this world people—men—I care for, men who are not my lover yet who are held in high regard by me. Some might be relatives, others servants or merely friends; if any asked me for a cure I knew how to make I would make it—but I do not use spells nor do I ill wish any.’

‘Yet he came to you in the dark of night.’ Captain Colby looked thoughtful. ‘I shall acquit you of wanting to poison me and mayhap I was wrong to think you had a lover—but you are hiding something from me, Mistress Babette. My instincts never lie. I must warn you to be careful. Please do not do anything foolish while my men and I stay at your uncle’s house. Should I discover that you were harbouring an enemy I might be forced to take measures...and it would not go well with you or your family if a superior officer should discover you were a spy.’

Babette’s heart caught with fear, not for herself, but for her brother and Drew. If these men should discover them she believed they would find themselves prisoners...perhaps worse. Could they be Royalist spies? John had seemed to hint that Drew was important to the cause. She must be very careful not to betray herself when John came that night.

‘Now you will not speak to me,’ Captain Colby said, a dangerous softness in his voice—dangerous, because it broke down her guard and almost made her forget he was her enemy. Something in her responded to his stroking and she wished that she might confide in him. Why could he not have been a Royalist? Her throat tightened and she could not speak even if she wished. ‘I did not wish to frighten you. I would not have harm come to you or your family, believe me. It was rather in the nature of a friendly warning.’

‘Then I thank you,’ she said, ‘though I see no reason for your fears. I am merely a guest in my uncle’s house. If my beliefs differ from his, still I would not do anything to harm him or his family. Nor would I deliberately harm you or your men, sir—even if we are enemies.’

‘I hope you speak the truth for your own sake and mine,’ he said, and for a moment his arms seemed to tighten about her. ‘It would pain me if I had to punish you, Babs.’

How dared he call her by the name she thought reserved for her family? Her mood was instantly altered. She wanted to reproach him, but he seemed less angry and threatening and she dared not make him lose his temper again. She must ignore his familiarity while he was in a position of power—but if ever they should meet in different circumstances...

Contenting herself with thoughts of how she would treat him with haughty disdain once the King had won the war, Babette managed to complete the ride back to her uncle’s house without giving rein to her temper.

* * *

Once she was back at the house, Babette found herself busy cooking and baking. Now that they had so many guests there was three or four times the work. Aunt Minnie grumbled that the soldiers were eating her out of house and home, but Uncle Matthew reminded her that a troop of more than twenty men might have ridden in and taken all they had without any form of payment. Captain Colby had promised payment for what they took.

‘I know your uncle is right,’ Babette’s aunt said when they were alone, ‘but the work does not fall on him—and it will not be easy to replenish our stores. I may have to send to London for some supplies.’

‘Yes, I dare say. We have used most of our spices, raisins and dates in the last batch of buns I made. You will need to buy more soon, Aunt.’

‘I think I shall send to town for a length of cloth for Angelina and perhaps for myself. We could both do with a new gown for Sunday—and perhaps you would care to buy something, too, Babette? We can have Mistress Hoskins from the village to help cut and sew it, though I like to finish my gowns myself.’

Babette hesitated. Had she not been told that John wished her to return to the castle she would have been glad of the chance to buy at least one length of wool to make herself a new gown for the winter months, which were not so very far ahead. However, it was unlikely that an order sent within the next few days would be filled and delivered before she was home again. Better to wait until she was at the castle. Perhaps Alice would care to order some cloth, too? Briefly, her thoughts dwelled on her sister-in-law—what was Alice like and would she welcome her husband’s sister back to the castle?

‘Thank you, dear Aunt,’ she said, ‘but I think I shall not order this time. Perhaps when the fair comes...’

She blushed a little as she turned away, not wanting her aunt to see her face. She felt guilty at hiding her secret from Aunt Minnie, because the lady had been kind and generous. Indeed, Babette would miss her when she left. However, she must rejoice at the news of her brother’s return and her duty was to his wife. Alice was living in a strange house, carrying her first child and without friends. Babette knew how lonely it could be at the castle and thought that the sooner she was able to leave her uncle’s house the better for Alice’s sake. However, she could not leave until John was able to escort her. First he must get Drew on his feet again and then he must make certain that the Parliament soldiers had gone. Only then would he have time to fetch her.

* * *

After she had finished preparing supper, Babette began to brew an infusion of herbs and berry juice that she knew would help to ease the pain of Drew Melbourne’s wound and to fight a fever. She ground her ingredients, poured on boiling water to release the flavours and healing properties, then strained the mixture through muslin, removing all the pulp and bits. When she had a clear yellowish-green mixture, she added a spoon of honey to sweeten it, tasted it, added more honey and then poured the finished preparation into a flask.

‘You have spent a lot of time on your cure,’ Aunt Minnie said. ‘Who is it for?’

Babette hesitated. She thought that she might trust her aunt, but then the kitchen door opened and her uncle entered. She smiled and shook her head, slipping the small flask into the pocket of her gown. Aunt Minnie frowned, but remained silent, and Babette left the room. She went into the parlour and began to prepare the table for supper that night. The dark oak table looked best set with mats of woven straw, the knife to one side and the spoon to the other. In her uncle’s house each member of the household was given both a knife and a spoon. Babette had heard that some people followed the French fashion and had introduced a two-pronged instrument into their households, which could be used to spear a piece of meat, but Uncle Matthew ate with his knife or spoon, using his fingers to secure any tasty morsel that could not be speared by the knife or scooped up in the spoon.

That night they were to have roasted capon. Babette’s uncle liked the leg joint best and ate it with his fingers, disposing of the bones to the dogs he allowed to roam in and out of the house. They were hunting dogs, but also useful as guard dogs, and he liked to have one at his heels wherever he went, inside and out. Aunt Minnie liked the breast meat, with the skin crisped and golden, while both Angelina and Babette enjoyed the sweeter meat on the wings. There was only one way to eat them and that was with the fingers, so they would need finger bowls set at intervals for each diner. She wondered whether Captain Colby would eat his chicken with the point of his knife or his fingers. He normally used the knife, spearing the meat and eating daintily until the last piece, which he ate with his fingers. She thought that his table manners were very good—the mark of a true gentleman. He had long narrow fingers that looked elegant when in repose, but which she knew to be extremely strong, having felt his grasp imprison her.

She must not think about such things! There were more important matters to concern her. She frowned as she remembered that her brother was to come to the house that night for the healing mixture she had brewed.

Her work in the parlour finished, Babette was just considering how soon after dinner she could slip outside to meet her brother when a slight noise behind her caught her off guard. She turned to see Captain Colby looking at her thoughtfully.

‘Lost in thought, Mistress Babette?’ he asked. ‘I hope you are not planning to slip away to meet your lover tonight.’

Provoking creature! Did he imagine his mockery was amusing? The sparkle in his eyes was so attractive it made her angry. Did he think himself so charming that he would have her eating from his hand if he smiled at her? She would have liked to wipe that smug smile from his lips, but caution warned her to hold her tongue.

‘You like to mock me, sir. I have no lover—and if I choose to visit a friend I think it no business of yours.’





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